Walk This Way
by Hayseed Socrates
Summary: This is not a tag, but rather a "deleted scene" from Little Yellow House. It takes place after Jane explains to the team that George Holiday (the poker playing mob boss) needs a different kind of motivation so they can get Jane into the poker game. Remember that leather skirt?
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No copyright infringement intended, no money made. I don't own The Mentalist. But apparently Teresa does…heh.

 _AN: This isn't a tag, but rather an "expander." It takes place between the scene in Little Yellow House where Jane tells the team that the mobster poker player needs " a different kind of motivation" and the next scene, when Teresa walks into the bar wearing a leather skirt._

 _So this is basically smut, which I'm not all that comfortable writing, so I'm posting it now because if I wait ten more minutes (and read it over for more mistakes) I may never post it. I will claim all the errors._

 _I haven't written much (if any) explicit stuff for TM. There are three reasons for that. 1) Because it's not my forte. 2) Because I always imagined Jane/Lisbon lovemaking sessions being wordless affairs. Most of their intimate exchanges on the show were wordless, after all. And writing dialogue free sex scenes often devolves into creepy clinical descriptions. So I didn't. 3) Because even fictional characters deserve a little privacy._

 _All that said, I was rewatching Little Yellow House the other day and began to wonder how the time between those two scenes went down. This happened. I'm trying to swirl believability and voyeurism in this one – hope I've succeeded and I hope you enjoy it. The title is from the Aerosmith song. You know the one._

 _Not for the kiddies…_

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 **Walk This Way**

Abbott's team sat in the conference room going over details of the players in the poker game.

"How'd it go with Holiday? You in?" Lisbon asked.

"Not yet," replied Cho.

"He needs a different kind of motivation," Jane explained. He looked away, amused.

"What kind?" she asked.

Teresa wasn't going to like his newly hatched plan much, but he held a trump card. It really _was_ a necessary step to keep her brother from having to testify in this case.

"I have to run an errand first, and then I think Lisbon and I can handle getting into the poker game."

"We can?" she said with a frown.

"Back in a few…" he said, ignoring her questions. He didn't meet her inquisitive eyes as he made his way out of the fishbowl. There was no point in giving her time to come up with a reason she couldn't do this, now was there?

"Jane?" she called after him, but he kept walking.

Thirty minutes later he was strolling down a street lined with women's boutique clothing shops, looking for just the right thing. Holiday's tastes wouldn't run toward the outright sleazy but he would enjoy something a little on the wild side. Jane was sure he would know it when he saw it.

As he wandered into one of the unique establishments, he reflected on Lisbon's clothing choices. He hadn't seen her in a dress during the first five years he'd known her, and then it was only for a rare "black tie required" event. He understood, really he did. She was a woman doing a job that required her mostly male co-worker's respect as a peer. The last thing she wanted to do was remind them she was an attractive, sexy woman.

Back in the CBI days he'd resorted to using Grace's impending wedding as an excuse to see Teresa in something beautiful and feminine. More recently, in the art thief case, he'd been able to enjoy her in two stunning dresses, but they were of his choosing, not hers.

It took her relationship with Pike for Jane to discover where her tastes in feminine clothing actually ran. That's why he knew he needed to go shopping today. She wouldn't have the right clothes in her own closet to reel in a mob boss. While he himself appreciated her style, it was much too classy for the job at hand.

He was in the last store on the block when he spied it – the hip hugging black leather miniskirt paired with a sleeveless blouse displayed on the manikin in the middle of the store. Yes! This would be catnip to a man like Holiday.

He checked the size and luck was with him. It would fit Teresa like a glove. He took it to the checkout desk and while the clerk wrapped it in tissue and ribbons, he picked out a pair of tall black pumps and a black and white clutch to complete the outfit. May as well get the whole effect, he chuckled to himself. Poor George wasn't going to know what hit him.

He called Lisbon on the way back to the FBI.

"Hey, I'll be out in the parking lot in the Airstream in twenty minutes. If you'll come out, I'll show you how we're going to get into that poker game."

"Why am I getting a feeling of dread, Jane?"

"Meet me. Twenty minutes. You're gonna love it," he lied. _Well, at least I will_.

XOXOXOOXOX

He watched her emerge from the front door of the FBI and march purposefully toward the Airstream, and he opened the door just as she was about to knock. From the look on her face, she had worked out for herself just what kind of motivation George Holiday needed. She sat down on his gray couch with an irritated flop.

"Okay, let's see it," she ordered.

"What's that?" he replied, feigning ignorance.

She glared at him. "Whatever I'm supposed to wear to get Holiday's attention."

Given her mood, he decided he'd best get on with it. He pulled out the sleeveless blouse and her eyebrows rose. When he fished out the leather shirt as well she looked at him in disbelief.

"Is that a skirt or a handkerchief?"

He couldn't hold back a smirk. "Oh, c'mon, Lisbon, you want to get your brother out of trouble don't you? We need to get into that poker game and this will get us that invitation."

She narrowed her eyes in his direction. "This isn't just an excuse to get me into leather?"

"It will appeal to Holiday. Not outright slutty," he explained, waving his hand with a 'so so' motion, "but something that screams sexual confidence and a certain…adventurousness."

"Is that even a word?" Her expression said she wasn't completely buying his explanation.

"I got this because I'm ninety nine percent positive it will get his attention, and that is what we need."

She lowered her chin, looking at him over imaginary reading glasses.

He tilted his head in response. "And if I happen to appreciate how attractive you look in this, I assure you it's…it's…" he sputtered, "…an unexpected perk."

"I'm not sure I can even get _into_ that skirt, Jane."

"One way to find out." He held out the outfit and she snatched it from his hands, making a beeline toward the bathroom.

"You can change out here…" he offered wistfully, but she was already out of sight.

 _Ah well_ , he sighed to himself. She couldn't hide forever.

In a moment the door opened and out she strode, looking down at the skin tight skirt with trepidation. "One more potato chip and I'd split this thing out," she quipped. Then she glanced up to see him staring at her, transfixed.

His "appreciation" of her outfit must have been blatantly obvious. Perhaps it was the drool, he reckoned. In that moment, Teresa Lisbon realized the atmosphere in the Airstream had shifted. A knowing smile spread across her face, signifying that she knew who was in control here now. And it sure as hell wasn't Patrick Jane.

"You know if you'd wanted to see me in leather you could have asked," she said with a suggestive edge.

"I…uh." Words failed him.

"I think you sort of miss the CBI. You miss me being in charge, don't you? Admit it."

"Well. I." Why was he unable to articulate?

"Being told what to do kind of…how did you describe it? Flips your switch, doesn't it?"

This was an unexpected turn. Where, exactly, was she going with this?

"What time will Holiday be at the bar?" she asked.

"He usually shows up about four," he croaked, finding his voice.

She looked at her watch. "It's just two thirty."

And then his sweet, 'straight as an arrow' Teresa Lisbon grinned a positively evil grin. "Take that jacket off," she ordered.

"Now?"

"Hurry up."

He only hesitated a second before tossing his jacket on the counter with flair.

"Vest and shirt."

He unbuttoned them deliberately, enjoying her attentive stares, and laid them on his jacket. She paused for a moment, exploring him with her eyes.

"The rest of it. Off."

He gestured to his trousers, questioning.

"All of it."

Jane undid his belt and unzipped, slipping off his pants, underwear and socks in one fell motion. You shouldn't keep a lady waiting, after all.

"Lie down on the couch, face down."

 _Wait._ He would've loved to see her shimmy out of that skirt, he thought with a pang of regret. It would only be fair, at this point. "Teresa, I…"

"Shut up."

He did as he was told. Lisbon clearly had a plan and he suspected he would be richly rewarded if he let it play out. He took a deep breath and willed himself some patience.

He felt the cool sensation of leather touching the bare skin at the angle of his hip as she sat down beside him on the couch. A shiver ran through him, and she noticed.

"Hands under your head." After he complied, she began to stroke the back of his neck with a lightness that almost wasn't there. With sensuous hands, she traced the lines of his shoulders and continued down the muscles of his back - all with that silky light touch. Eventually, her hands lingered over his bare backside. It made him all tingly.

"You really do have a great ass," she observed in a whisper. Then she resumed her exploration, running her hands over the backs of his thighs and calves.

Imagining what else she had in store for him, his body began to respond, making his current face down position uncomfortable.

"I need to turn a little," he ventured carefully.

That elicited a throaty chuckle. "Okay, you can turn over now, but keep your hands to your sides," she instructed, and she got to her feet to allow his movement.

He rolled over, releasing his erection with relief and when he looked up at her, she was staring down at him like a cat with a cornered mouse. Her predatory expression coupled with the sight of her in that tight leather skirt was downright electrifying.

Turns out, she was just getting started. She explored his front side with the same teasing, seductive touch as before, and followed that up with tantalizing, well placed kisses. By the time she finally turned her attention to his erection, he was wild with desire. Starting at the base, she ran her tongue up his length, stopping to tease the tip with a few extra kisses. The contradictory sensations of warmth from her mouth and the coolness of the evaporating wetness very nearly did him in right then and there.

Sensing his tenuous control, she stopped just in time and stood up next to the couch. She unbuttoned her blouse and shed her bra, exposing her breasts to him in full view. He desperately wanted to touch her, but when he lifted his hand she stopped him with a glare. He pulled back, fervently hoping that she understood he couldn't stand this much longer. She had set him on fire.

Sure enough, Lisbon read him well. She turned her back to him, commanding, "Unzip me."

With great force of will he managed to pull her skirt zipper down slowly, and she wriggled out of the leather sheath, enjoying his captivated leer. He was immensely grateful when she finally stood facing him, allowing him to take in the deliciousness of her completely naked feminine form.

"You are mine, Patrick Jane. Mine."

He nodded. He was. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Then she leaned over and kissed him, allowing her breasts to brush his chest. Their softness pressing against his skin nearly made him cry out with want. Realizing she had played with him long enough, she pulled back to meet his eyes and said, "Show me I belong to you."

He hesitated a nanosecond, making sure he was reading her correctly. When he lifted his hands to pull her to him, she yielded eagerly to his touch.

Jane flipped her underneath him in one smooth motion and kissed her hard and deep. When his lips slid down to her breasts, giving them the attention they deserved, she arched to meet him. Only then did he appreciate her own degree of tension - she was just as desperate for their coupling as he was.

"Now, Patrick," she urged.

"I won't last…"

"Shut up and show me," she ordered, her eyes drunk with want. She wrapped her hands around his ass, pulling him toward her core.

He needed no further encouragement and plunged into her, losing himself in the sweet depths of warmth and pleasure. Nothing existed right now in the world except the two of them and their hungry bodies. Within a few strokes, he felt her body tighten around his and she cried out with the intensity of her release.

Her surrender intensified his already mad desire and he continued his motions, letting her ride out her pleasure until he could wait no longer. His climax was raw and intense, and he exploded within her, blinded by the sensations of ecstasy and power. "Teresa…" he gasped, delivering her name as a form of worship.

Afterward they lay side by side on the narrow couch, damp with sweat, trying to catch their breath. She turned to him, giving him a smug, sultry smile. She was still working it. "Where is that straight arrow Catholic schoolgirl and what have you done with her?" he chuckled.

"She's in confession, I'd guess," she snorted, and then she glanced at her watch. "We've got forty five minutes. I need a shower."

As she rose she gave him a deep, languid parting kiss and then sashayed off to the bathroom, grabbing her scanty outfit off the floor on her way.

"I'll be here," he called after her. "Attempting to recover."

"Good luck," she sassed as she disappeared into the small room and closed the door.

His heart rate had returned to normal by the time she reemerged, again dressed in the leather skirt and black blouse. Which of course, increased his heart rate again.

"Where are those ridiculous shoes?" she asked, scanning the room.

"Under the chair."

"Ah," she said, spying them. "You need to get ready."

"I'm not sure I can move."

She grinned, gratified that she had had such an effect on him. "Get up. This is your plan, and I don't want my little brother in trouble with the mob," she reminded him.

"Right," he said, getting his head back into the game. Soon he was showered and dressed, and they readied themselves to leave as four o'clock approached.

They were quiet on the car ride to the bar, savoring their mutual satisfaction and contentment. After she parked, Jane reviewed their plan, finishing with, " We'll just play it by ear. You chat him up, and I'm the guy who's not smart with money. "

"Got it," she said as she stepped out of the car. She turned back to him, leaning down into the open door.

"Just remember, Patrick Jane, that I'm not wearing this outfit for some two bit mobster. I'm wearing it," her voice turned dark and sexy, "for you…" And with an alluring half smile, she shut the door and strutted down the street toward the bar in his full view. And what a view it was. It was going to require some serious discipline to keep his mind on this operation. A good problem to have, he decided.

He waited a couple of minutes and sauntered confidently into the bar. She waved to him from across the room and he smiled at the sight of her. Alas, he reminded himself, there was work to be done. He walked over to join her and Holiday at the bar.

"Have a seat right here, Patrick," she said with a hint of mischief, patting the barstool next to her.

 _Oh you bad girl_. He did as he was told, and turned to George Holiday.

She made the introductions. "Patrick, this is George. He owns the place."

"We've met," Holiday informed her gruffly.

"Yes, we have," Jane acknowledged. "I see you've met _my girlfriend_ , Teresa…" Their mark could look all he wanted, but as far this fiery, incredibly sexy woman in the leather skirt was concerned? Everyone involved needed to understand that she was all his.

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THE END

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 _AN: That's it folks. I'd love to know if you thought it was in character enough to have happened._


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